In a Nightmare
by Icestorm926
Summary: Jade wakes up in a dream bubble with a gun pointed at her face and has to deal with an overdramatic, yet strangely beaten-down and regretful troll who is completely adorable. Eridan Ampora may not be the kindest, but would it hurt to give him one more chance? (Jade/Eridan, done for a personal Homestuck pairing challenge.)


You hated sleeping!

You used to crave it, wished you could disappear forever in the golden moon's bustling streets. It was a beautiful, perfect place. A utopia if you ever knew one.

You missed that place, those people.

With your dream self dead and Prospit's moon destroyed, you were subjected to wandering through the horrendous void that was the Furthest Ring. Even in dream bubbles, you were tortured by the tentacled gods, and it was driving you insane.

(why can't you have a peaceful night's sleep? why do they have to do this to you? what did you ever do?)

Putting aside the horrorterrors, the company you found yourself in was never pleasant. Once, there was a loud-mouth troll who bragged too often and had too many violent tendencies, then there was a scary, muscled troll with cracked shades and greasy hair who insisted that you were inferior to him.

Tonight had to be the worst of them all, though.

You woke with the muzzle of a blue ray gun in your face.

And you snapped.

(who wouldn't if you woke up like that!?)

You screeched and launched yourself up, simultaneously wrenching the gun out of the wielder's hands and kicking them in the leg. They crumpled with a dramatic "oof" and a stream of shouted curses, and suddenly the tables were turned, the positions switched.

You nearly burst out laughing at the pitiful, ridiculous creature you had bested.

It was a troll, of course. (the bubbles were never kind enough to give you human company.) He was skinny, a pile of bones, thin muscle, and odd clothing, and without his gun, he was completely defenseless. You would almost feel bad for him, had it not been for the vicious glare he was sending in your direction and how he was baring his sharp fangs at you.

His theme was purple, apparently. From the (admittedly pretty sweet) swirl in his hair, the long scarf hung around his neck, the long, outrageous cape, and even his shoes, the purple theme seemed to be a constant, and . . . What were you thinking saying this guy was ridiculous and odd?

This had to be the stupidest person in all of paradox space - and he pulled it off in the most endearing way possible. (seriously! :o)

"Let go of my fuckin' wweapon, bitch!"

Okay, not the kindest guy, but what did you expect? He was a troll, after all.

You have to admit that it made you a little less eager to interact with him, though. (but maybe he was like karkat?)

"I don't think so, not that with that attitude!" You hardened your gaze and flipped the gun around to jab the butt into the troll's stomach, causing another gush of curses to escape his lips as he doubled over. "You vvile wwitch," he snapped, barely comprehensible as he bit down on his lip in pain. (what a surprise: his blood was purple as well.)

"I am, in fact, a witch," you replied, suddenly grinning despite the insult. "Can't you see my God Tier outfit?"

He didn't respond, his blank white eyes narrowed in anger.

You weren't exactly feeling charitable, but as you watched him silently glaring, you came to the conclusion that violence wouldn't help. If you were going to earn an ally, or an enemy, it wouldn't do any good to mistreat him. Might as well give him a chance.

"Okay, I'm going to let you up, and we're going to have a nice conversation. If you don't try to attack me, then I'll give you your gun back. Although . . ." You stepped away and held the gun (could it be some sort of rifle?) out to examine it. It was extremely heavy, despite being quite sleek and fancy. The barrel appeared to have some sort of . . . was that a crystal? You weren't sure. It looked like the sort of gun your grandpa would have locked away in a case somewhere so you could admire its beauty and uniqueness.

In conclusion, the gun was gaudy as hell, but it seemed to pack a powerful punch, so you gave it the Harley seal of approval, which was not an actual thing that existed.

While you had been preoccupied with the rifle, the troll had gained his feet and was eyeing you with suspicion. He pointed at you. "Are you gonna finish, or continue to ogle my wweapon like you're gettin' off on it or somethin'." He paused, mortified, as what he said sunk in. You restrained a giggle at the hint of a violet blush on his cheeks. "Wwoww, that sounded wway better in my head."  
"I'm sure it did," you giggled, hugging the gun to your chest now so he couldn't swipe it. "But if you really want your precious gun back, you have to be nice first." You gestured at the ground. "Come on, let's sit and talk." In one clumsy motion, you plopped down in the grass.

His gaze was down-right murderous as he took his place beside you, sweeping his cape to the side and straightening his bulky glasses. Then he sighed, and the tension drained out of his body, leaving his expression bored and gloomy. "Wwhat's there to evven talk about?" he inquired, waving a hand dismissively. (hey, you hadn't noticed he was wearing so many rings! they sort of reminded you of the colorful reminders you once wore. :))

"That's easy!" you chirped. "First, we introduce ourselves. I'm Jade Harley." You nodded at him, signalling it was his turn.

Despite his lack of pupils, you had a feeling he was rolling his eyes at you. "Eridan Ampora."

You nudged him with your elbow. "That's a fancy name."

"It's a name," he muttered. "Nothin' to get wworked up ovver."

There was silence for a few minutes. You weren't sure what to say, so you settled on watching him as he stared glumly at the landscape, which was a mish-mash of beaches, rolling hills, and stand-alone lakes. He was slouched, his hand propping his head up, being careful of the - wait.

"What are those?" you asked, pointed at the protrusions on the side of his head. There was an inkling of a memory tugging at your subconscious. Where had you seen those before?

Eridan instantly snapped to attention, his spine stick-straight as he raised his hands to try and cover those . . . (really, what were they? :\) "My fuckin' head fins, wwhat the hell else could they be? It's the rewward I get for bein' born wwith pure vviolet blood. Havven't you been told about seadwwellers?"

Then it clicked. "Just like Feferi!"

He froze.

You grinned. "I remember it now. Feferi had fins like those, and she kept talking about how she was a seadweller, or at least implied it I think, and-"

"You talked to Feferi Peixes, abdicated empress to be?" he said, lowering his hands and staring in disbelief.

You nodded, a bit mystified. "Yeah. We never talked a lot, but she was nice. Except, apparently she's dead now."

You were about to question him about his connection with her when he suddenly lurched forward, sobbing into hands, shoulders already beginning to shake.

Mystified by the show of emotion, you slowly placed your hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry. Did you not know she was . . . gone?" You winced, hoping you were being delicate and tactful.

He whipped around, pushing your hand away and shuffling away. "Of course I kneww that she's dead! I wwas the one that killed her!" he shouted, not bothering to wipe away the diluted purple tear streaks running down his cheeks.  
It was your turn to freeze.

He scowled, nearly tripping over his cape as he got to his feet. "Don't start judgin' me," he growled. "I knoww I fucked up. It wwas the stupidest, most idiotic, dowwnright moronic thing I'vve evver done. An' I regret it evvery indivvidual day wwhile I wwander around this insufferable place, so shut your trap."

As he stalked away, you were struck with the worst case of guilt, and as you looked down at the gun, something dawned on you yet again.

This gun . . . This gun.

It was Ahab's Crosshairs. It was the exact gun your penpal had sent you along with the other weapons. It was the same one you had thrown out the window after that weird, icky troll had sent it to you.

"Holy shit," you whispered, staring at the troll who was walking away. That purple was the same purple of his text, the stuttering of his w's mirrored how he doubled them when he typed. He was the one that had hit on you multiple times and had complained about his drama and his problems.

After the shock wore off, Eridan was a fair distance off, still striding quickly and angrily, his fingers curled into tight fists.  
You frowned, caught between getting out of there and leaving the psychopath to stew in his own bad decisions (he did seem like a jerk and he was awfully rude and assuming) or running after him. (everyone did horrible things. that didn't make them horrible people . . .)  
Slowly, you stood, and began walking, soon warping space so you were standing next to him. He acted as if nothing strange had happened and glared daggers at you.

You held the gun out to him.

"It's okay."

That's all you said.

You gave him a tired, wiry smile.

He took the Crosshairs carefully, slipping it into his strife specibus. He didn't respond, but when his eyes met yours again, something had changed. He was weary, he was guarded, but there was no longer anger in his body language. He was tentative, unsure.

Your grin grew wider. "So where are we going now?"

He shrugged. "No clue."

"Let's get going then!" You nudged him, and skipped forward, gesturing for him to follow.

(are you imagining that hint of a smile? is such a thing even possible? hehehe. ;) guess you'll find out.)


End file.
